


Smarter Than You Look

by FuckTheLampPost



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 13:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18195380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuckTheLampPost/pseuds/FuckTheLampPost
Summary: "His father wasn't the smartest person in the world. He mostly drank his way through life, going to work hungover and coming home drunk. He was an angry drunk, the kind of angry was you did anything he asked exactly when he asked it or shit happened. Bad shit. Abusive shit. Illegal shit. Lance found that out the hard way. "This was originally a one-shot request from my other book, Klance One-Shots, but I decided to turn it into a book.





	1. Holding Back

Lance was used to it. The bullying, the teasing, the abuse. He had dealt with it all his life. It was only when it started to come from his own father that it started to take its effects. 

His father wasn't the smartest person in the world. After Lance's mom died, he mostly drank his way through life, going to work hungover and coming back drunk. Marcus was an angry drunk, the kind of angry where you did anything and everything he asked exactly when he asked it or shit happened. Bad shit. Abusive shit. Illegal shit. Lance found that out the hard way.

When he was in class, he was restless. He already knew how to draw a boar model. He already knew how to find the slope of a problem. He already knew. It was becoming a problem. He would stare off into space, not pay attention and make teachers angry, and then piss them off, even more, when he got a perfect score on a test or an assignment.

"Lance McClain, stay after class." Lance sighed. He had gotten another one hundred, this time on their chemistry unit. It was a pretty easy test, even if he weren't so smart.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, rolling his eyes to himself. He didn't want to make her any more angry than she already was, which was incredibly hard to do.

When the bell rang, Lance gathered up his stuff but stayed in the room. He waited until everyone left, then got up and sulked to the teacher's desk. He knew what he was going to ask. How-

"-Did you do it, Lance? Huh? Write the answers on your arm? Copy my answer key? What great lengths did you go to to get this perfect score?"

"Uh...I didn't cheat, ma'am." He heard what sounded like a muttered 'bullshit' come from her, but he couldn't be sure. Teachers weren't supposed to curse. "Can I go now? I'm going to be late."

"You can go when you admit what you did wrong, Lance. You can't cheat your way through life. You can't lie. Tell me the truth and you can go."

That day he had gotten ISS.

And his father flipped. His. Shit.

"YOU LITTLE BRAT. WHAT DID YOU DO?" His father had downed a full bottle of Jack, followed by an insane amount of Canadien Whiskey. Lance was surprised he wasn't puking his guts out while unconscious on the couch. Again.

"I-I didn't do anything!! I swear! I just got a one hundred and she thought I cheated!" Lance's father had him backed into a corner, the smell of alcohol and rotten meat coming off him in waves.

"You know I wouldn't believe your stupid lies. You're not smart enough for that, WHAT DID YOU DO?"

The next day Lance came to school with a black eye and a bruised rib. His father had forgotten it was him who had caused the injuries, and suspecting Lance had gotten into another fight, the abuse continued the day after that. And the day after that. And the day after that. It had gotten so bad that when Lance graduated high school, had applied for the Galaxy Garrison so that he would have the chance to not even be on the same planet as his father. That, and he loved planes and ships.

Lance had got in, but he had held back. On the application test, he had made sure to answer the easy questions right.

Q1. What unit of speed is this aircraft measured in? Knots. duh.

Q2. What do the flaps of a plane do, and how would you land if they're non-functional? Flaps are a type of high-lift device used to increase the lift of an aircraft wing at a given airspeed. Flaps are used to lower the minimum speed at which the aircraft can be safely flown and to increase the angle of descent for landing. Flaps also cause an increase in drag, so they are retracted when not needed. If non-functional, the pilot would have to make a high-speed landing. Obviously.

But on the questions that were harder, questions that you would have to study for, Lance held back. He doesn't want a repeat of high school, where everyone thought he was cheating and full of it.

He got accepted as a cargo pilot. Maybe he held back a little too much.


	2. "Healping" Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "His father wasn't the smartest person in the world. He mostly drank his way through life, going to work hungover and coming home drunk. He was an angry drunk, the kind of angry was you did anything he asked exactly when he asked it or shit happened. Bad shit. Abusive shit. Illegal shit. Lance found that out the hard way. "

The days at the Garrison flew by like a dream. It took a while, for Lance to get used to the new place and his lovely roommate, Huitzilihuitl.

"Everyone calls me Hunk. So, I guess I should have introduced myself to you as Hunk. Sorry!" He said, one hand rubbing the back of his neck and the other held out for Lance to shake. Lance stood back, not shaking 'Hunks' hand.

He overall avoided physical human contact. Since Lance's dad had hit him for so long, any sort of touch became kind of a trigger for him. Hunk had found this out the hard way, after coming back to the dorm and slapping Lance on the back, congratulating him for passing the simulator test.

SLAP

Lance couldn't breathe. His vision went blurry as he went into full panic attack mode and sunk to the floor.

"Lance- Lance, oh my god." Hunk rushed to catch his friend before he hit the floor. He sits Lance up against the wall and stands back for a few moments before approaching him.

"Lance. Lance, buddy, I need you to breathe, please. I know its hard, but please, just take in some air!" Lances vision was blurry. He looked around, pulling at his hair and sucking in what felt like no air. "Lance," Hunk had pleaded, doing his best to help Lance.

Hunk had demanded to know everything that had caused his panic attack. Since then, Hunk had perfected the prosses of calming down Lance through trial and error.

Many trials, and even more error.

Lance's time as a cargo pilot did not do him well. With him getting constant shit from his professors and Iverson, and his "rivalry" with Keith, his little self-esteemed went from depressed to suicidal. Hunk had noticed. He walked in on Lance one day in the bathroom, apologizing quickly just to stop and see what was happening.

"Lance, what the fuck are you doing, you're going to hurt yourself!" Hunk never cussed. EVER. So for him to do so showed just how freaked out he was. Lance was sitting in the shower with a candle held under his hand. He had faded scars all along his arm, and other cuts that were crusted over. "LANCE." Hunk had taken the candle away and started the water so he could put Lance's hand under it. Hunk knew about the scars. He was the reason there were no new ones. "Lance, you have to tell me when you feel like this ok?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, ok, sure." Hunk just sighed and fixed Lance's hand.

Lance had a scar on his palm from the burn. He Later gave Hunk a more sincere apology and promise when he was off the painkiller high.

Hunk always freaked if Lance was in the bathroom for more than 30 mins at night.

Lance later got new meds for anxiety and depression, as well as PTSD and insomnia. He was doing good. He was sleeping through the night, barely getting nightmares and having fewer panic attacks. So it sucked when he got pulled into the absolute hell known as Voltron. Well, it wasn't all hell. Just the part that he forgot his meds. And the fact that he had no way of getting new ones. And the fact that he was continually getting yelled at...you get the point. Now, don't get him wrong, he loved his lion. He loved being a part of something so important, even though he always felt like he was ruining it. He was good at hiding it though. That what Hunk hated so much about his friend. He hated how good he was at hiding all his feelings and treating them like they didn't count for shit. He knew that he was hurting, he knew that he was sleep deprived, he knew the war was NOT helping his already very severe PTSD. He knew. And it was killing him.

"Lance, please, you need to tell Coran. He can probably find some meds, they will make you feel better!" Hunk pleaded. Lance just waved him off.

"Hunk, I'm fine." Bullshit lie and Hunk knew it.

"Lance, when is the last time you slept through the night?" No reply. "When is the last time you even slept?" Hunk leaned in and began to notice what was not covered by the concealer Lance got from the space mall. Lances bloodshot eyes had deep, dark circles under them. Hunk went to touch Lance, flinching when he felt how skinny was. Lance was a walking corpse. "When was the last time you ate?" Lance didn't answer. He just looked down and stared at his feet. Hunk sighed. "Lance, you need to take care of yourself. I know its hard, and I know you try, but this isn't healthy! You..." Lance just tuned out. He had heard this speech enough times to be able to recite it word-for-word. Take care of yourself, Lance, you need to try harder, Lance, we have to be able to form Voltron, Lance. It was just too much. Lance started to slip away. He hadn't eaten in a while, he had almost no strength.

Lance had to put in a pod that day.


End file.
